


Casanova

by Kaye_Fraser



Series: Past Paramours and Future Lovers [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Lap Dances, M/M, Magic Potions, hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 11:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12012180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaye_Fraser/pseuds/Kaye_Fraser
Summary: After a drunken night he can't remember, Magnus must retrace his steps to find a misplaced Alec.





	Casanova

**Author's Note:**

> This is me: https://kayefraser.tumblr.com/

_Series: Past Paramours and Future Lovers  
Part 2: Casanova_

The first thing Magnus noticed was the smell. It was an unpleasant mix of unwashed bodies, rotting food, and human waste. For a brief, disoriented moment, he was reminded of the Italian prison he'd been thrown into after that horrific bender with Shelley and Byron. 

No, wait, this was the twenty-first century, not the nineteenth, his groggy brain cells pointed out with molasses-like sluggishness. Sanitation had come a long way since then. 

He gagged, but wasn't particularly keen on opening his eyes to see where he was. Surely, any place that smelled this foul couldn't be anywhere good. With a groan, he brought a hand up to rub his eyelids. For some inexplicable reason, they didn't want to open, and felt like they'd been glued shut. 

When he finally did manage to open them, an unfamiliar, water-stained ceiling slowly came into focus. He blinked. Then, he blinked again. The brown, splotchy ceiling remained. 

Where in the world was he? And how had he gotten here? The last thing he did was … was … 

Damn it, he couldn't remember. In fact, a big, black gaping hole sat where his most recent memories should've been. His last real recollection was sitting down for a nice home-cooked dinner with Alec. After that, there was nothing. 

Shit, Alec! Where was Alec? 

He sat up, and almost instantly regretted it as the sudden movement brought on a bout of temporary lightheadedness. He froze for a moment, waiting for it to pass. 

Holy shit, if this was a hangover, he couldn't recall the last time he'd had one this bad. He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth, and registered a strange aftertaste in the back of his throat. He'd tasted something like this before, once or twice, perhaps a long, long time ago – a strong, sharp combination of electricity and metal. He cursed silently. So, it wasn't just a simple hangover. It was a _magical_ hangover. Great, just great, he thought miserably. Somewhere, sometime, somehow, he'd ingested a mysterious magical potion from sources unknown. Who knew what trouble he could've gotten into during his fugue state? 

Nearby, there was the dull sound of grinding metal and muffled voices. Magnus looked up and around at his surroundings. Sadly, that didn't clear any of his confusion because all he saw was three gray walls and a set of easily identifiable bars. How in all that was unholy had he, Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, ended up in a jail cell? And a mundane jail cell at that? 

With a tired breath, he snapped his fingers, and waited for a portal to open. His magic was technically not as flashy as he made it out to be, so he omitted the usual flourish today, partly because there was no one to show off to, but mainly because he felt exhausted. All he wanted was to go home, re-gather his wits, find Alec, and figure out what had happened the previous night. 

But nothing happened. 

Well, not nothing exactly. There was a spark, and maybe what he would generously term a sputter, but definitely, no portal. His brows drew together in confusion. He snapped his fingers again and waited for the usual rush of energy that indicated his magic was going full force. Instead, he got nothing more than a trickle, like a great flowing river that had run dry and been reduced down to a tiny, dried-up creek. Damn, it looked like even his magic was hung over. He'd have to wait a bit for the mystery potion he'd drunk to wear off before his magic came back. Whatever had happened last night better have been damn well worth these embarrassing performance issues – magically speaking, he berated himself. 

He let out a resigned sigh, and was about to flop back down onto the lumpy cot when it occurred to him how many unknown diseases could be lingering on the mattress. He stopped himself, and quickly stood up. His legs wobbled briefly, and he fought off a small case of vertigo, but eventually, he steadied himself. 

Right, first things first, he had to – 

"Oh, good, you're awake." 

Magnus had never been so grateful to hear a familiar voice. "Luke!" he said both with relief and in greeting as he watched expectantly when the man started to unlock the cell. "You don't know how glad I am to see you." 

"I thought Ric was kidding when he said they'd brought you in. What happened? How did you end up in there?" The clink of keys was soon followed by the scrape of the opening door. 

Magnus walked out quickly, eager to be away from the claustrophobic holding cell. "I was hoping you could tell me. I can't remember a single thing from last night." 

Luke raised a disbelieving brow and gave him a sardonic, lopsided smile. "Really? According to the paperwork, they brought you into temporary holding for public intoxication. Must've been some night." 

"Not funny," Magnus threw back. "I think I was magically roofied. My magic is shot, and I have no idea where Alec is. Once I figure out what happened and who was responsible, there'll be hell to pay. Literally." 

The werewolf's expression sobered at the words. "Sorry, maybe this'll help." He tossed over-large plastic bag, which Magnus easily caught. "Your phone's been buzzing since I checked your stuff out of the storage locker." 

Magnus ripped the seal on the bag, and quickly dug through its contents. He had a few harsh words for the officer who had so haphazardly stuffed his red velvet Valentino jacket in there along with several of his silver chains and his wallet. His phone had slipped to the bottom of the bag, and he had to take everything out to retrieve it. 

"You're obviously dressed for a night on the town. It will forever be a mystery to me how you get into pants that tight," Luke remarked as he helpfully took some of the items out of Magnus' hands. 

Magnus nodded his thanks as he unlocked his phone. Admittedly, that was a clue: he had his black satin barely-buttoned shirt and his favorite leave-nothing-to-the-imagination leather pants on, so he'd likely dressed to be seen and noticed. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember ever picking out or putting on the outfit. His phone unlocked and he looked down to see twenty-one missed calls and fourteen texts from Isabelle. 

But there was nothing from Alec. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little worried. 

"Anything?" Luke asked. 

Magnus shook his head. "Just a lot of calls from Isabelle." 

"Well, the reception in the holding area here is pretty bad. I've already signed you out, so I'd recommend heading outside before calling her back. I'd like to help but I just got on shift, and have a meeting in five minutes." 

Magnus took his wallet and necklaces from the other man, and proceeded to shrug on his fitted jacket. "No, that's fine, Luke. Thanks for everything. I can handle it from here." 

The werewolf raised a skeptical eyebrow, much to Magnus' indignation. "You sure? I mean, you're magic-less, right now, and –" 

A hand with perfectly polished nails cut off the rest of the sentence. "Believe it or not, Luke, this isn't the first time I've woken up in jail without my magic and a chunk of memory missing. People who think the sixties was a psychedelic era never lived through the 1840s." 

There was a slight eye roll from Luke that Magnus chose to ignore. "Well, if you need help, just give me a call. I'll do what I can," the pack leader said. 

Magnus nodded his acknowledgement, and followed Luke out of the holding area. They went their separate ways at the front desk, with Luke promising to touch base later on when he was free. Downworlder relations had changed much during his long life, sometimes for the good and sometimes for the bad, but Magnus was quite pleased with the cooperation that had painstakingly developed between the different factions in the city. He supposed that being friends with several of the leaders helped. 

His phone flashed 9:03 a.m. by the time he'd rounded the corner by the police station and pulled it out to call Isabelle. She answered on the second ring. 

"Magnus, finally! I've been trying to get a hold of you all night. Where have you been?" Her voice was a mixed of frustration, worry, and relief. 

"I wish I knew, Isabelle. Last night is a bit of a blur." He scrubbed his face with his free hand, knowing full well it wouldn't clear the fog in his head, but nonetheless, trying anyway. 

"Well, have you heard from Alec?" 

At the mention of his boyfriend's name, Magnus became instantly alert. "No, I was hoping you could tell me where he is." 

"I was hoping the same thing. I think he drunk-dialed me last night but he sounded very, um, un-Alec. It was the strangest thing. I called back but his phone's going straight to voicemail. Angel knows, he needs to be corrupted a bit, but what did you do to my brother, Magnus?" 

Magnus stared at a crack on the sidewalk for a moment, unsure of how to take Isabelle's words. Somewhere in his muddled brain, he was sure he had an answer for Isabelle. Unfortunately, it just didn't seem easily accessible. "First off, I would never do anything to hurt your brother – well, not anything he didn't ask for, anyways – and secondly, I resent the implication of your corruption statement." 

"I know, Magnus. But, as his sibling, it's in my job description to worry." 

He lightened his tone, hoping to ease her concern. "And as his significant other, it's in mine too, Isabelle. But if he can hold his own against a horde of demons, I don't think there's too much to worry over." 

A muted laugh vibrated over the phone. "It's not him I'm worried about. It's the clueless bystanders around him." 

"Point taken," he conceded. It would've been funny if there hadn't been some truth to the scenario. "So you said he called you? Did he say where he was?" 

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, as if Isabelle was replaying the conversation over in her head. And then, "He did gush about how Maia was a nice person, for a werewolf, that was. And there was a lot of noise in the background." 

Magnus knew where she was going with her deduction. "I'll swing by the loft first to see if he's there, and if he's not, I'll head over to the Hunter's Moon. Maybe it'll trigger something. Or at the very least, I can ask around for some clues to what happened." 

"Thanks, Magnus. I'll check with Jace and Clary. Call me if you find anything?" 

"Of course." He said his goodbye, and ended the call. He looked at his phone for a moment, trying to get his bearings. The last few moments – from finding himself in a jail cell to his call with Isabelle – felt as though he'd been slowly waking up from a dream he couldn't remember. In truth, it all seemed a bit unreal. For thoroughness' sake, he dialed Alec's number, and as Isabelle had said, got sent straight to voicemail. "Where are you, Alec?" he muttered to himself. Best case scenario, he'd go home and find his errant boyfriend lazing about the loft. Worst case – well, he'd prefer not to go there. 

_"Wanna go out and have some fun tonight?" Wide, puppy-dog eyes looked at him expectantly. Normally, there was a playful naïveté about them, but tonight – tonight, there was something sultry, something almost wicked in their depths._

_Magnus unconsciously licked his bottom lip in response. "Depends on your definition of fun," he returned as he pressed closer to the Shadowhunter. He really did like how solid and right Alec felt against him. He was half-aroused already and only got harder as he traced a slow finger along the rune on the side of his boyfriend's neck._

Magnus straightened at the memory that flashed through his mind. He knew the image was real, could almost feel the languid heat of that moment deep in the pit of his stomach, but their words, their actions, it was a tad – a tad out of sorts. 

Waiting, yet not receiving, any more clues about the previous night from his lethargic brain, he made a quiet, defeated sound, and started walking toward the nearest subway station. With his magic in hibernation, he would have to travel the old fashioned way. He slipped his phone into his jacket pocket, but paused when his fingers brushed against something unfamiliar. Confused, he slowly pulled out a lacy, red ladies thong from the same pocket into which he'd just tucked his phone. He stared at it blankly. 

What the – ? 

(***) 

To say that Magnus knew the city well was an understatement. After all, having called New York his home for the last thirty odd years had given him a certain insight into its ins and outs. That said, he hadn't realized how time consuming it was to take the subway. He had heard people praise the efficiency of the system – and perhaps it was just him and his skewed experiences – but compared to portal-traveling, it was not the wonderful mode of transport people made it out to be. 

It was well past ten by the time he made his way toward the Hunter's Moon. He'd swung by his loft earlier, and aside from the discarded dishes of last night's meal, had found no sign of Alec. He'd taken a few minutes to clean up – looking like a drowned raccoon with his drooping hair and heavy eyeliner did not a good morning look make – and had headed out immediately thereafter. 

The bar would not open for another hour, but that didn't stop Magnus from peering in through and knocking on the distorted windows. He thought himself a fairly loyal patron, and he would hope that allowed him certain liberties. He knocked about three or four times before he heard the telltale click of the front door's lock. A familiar head popped out. 

"Maia! You don't know how glad I am to see you, my dear." 

The young werewolf opened the door further, and stepped out onto the sidewalk, posture relaxed. "Magnus, what are you doing here? We're not open yet, but I can pour you a drink if you'd like." 

He shook his head. "Thank you. That's very kind, but no." 

Maia laughed in that subdued tone of hers. "After last night, that might be smart. I thought for sure you and Alec wouldn't be in the land of the living until at least the afternoon." 

Magnus had the decency to feel sheepish at her remark, although years of practice hid the emotion well beneath his confident and collected façade. "That's where I was hoping you might be able to help me, Maia. Unfortunately, I can't seem to remember what happened last night. When did we come by? What did we do, and did Alec and I leave together?" 

The bartender watched him for a moment, as if trying to make sense of his questions. Then, she asked, "Wait, what? You lost Alec?" 

Of course, she would pick up on that, Magnus noted. But to that point, he didn't see any reason in outright denying it either. "Not lost exactly. I sort of lost track of him," he said lightly, knowing Maia would probably be amused by his situation. It wasn't every day that the great Magnus Bane was at a loss for anything. 

"Oh, wait, hang on!" Without explanation, Maia stepped back into the bar, leaving Magnus staring cluelessly at the door. A minute later, she reappeared with a cellphone in hand. "I almost forgot, Alec dropped this last night. I found it under the table after you guys left. It must've fallen out of his pocket after that lap dance he gave for you." 

"Lap … dance?" Magnus repeated weakly. 

Maia laughed at his astonishment, her gold, dangling earrings clinking at the action. "Yeah, I had to ask you guys to stop because everyone was staring and we aren't that kind of bar." 

That was an odd turn. Magnus wasn't sure what he regretted more: that fact that they had behaved so openly in public, or that he couldn't remember a single detail of the lap dance Alec had given him. He was leaning toward the latter, now that he thought about it. Not only did it sound like Alec had thrown away his inhibitions, he'd done it in public. He wasn't sure if he'd ever witness that again. 

"Here." Maia held out the phone. "I had to turn it off. It kept buzzing." 

Magnus took the cell with a nod of thanks. That was one tiny mystery solved, at least. "So, how long did we stay after the – uh, the dance?" 

The werewolf shrugged. "Not long, I don't think. Maybe around ten-thirty or eleven? I'd just talked to you guys, and then, you mentioned something about going somewhere else to dance. Right after that, destiny called." 

"I would hardly call dancing our destiny." 

A corner of Maia's mouth lifted up into a lopsided grin. Humor lit up her dark eyes. "No, Destiny. You said she's a friend of yours who works at the Paradise Found Club over in Queens. I didn't ask questions. I just assumed you guys were taking your thing to a more – um, appropriate setting." 

Well, shit, that wouldn't have been his first guess as to what had happened. What in the world had he been up to last night? And what had he been thinking at the time? Introducing Alec to his old friend Destiny hadn't been something he'd ever considered. Although, admittedly, it would've been fun to watch Alec's reaction when he met the exotic dancer. 

"Thank you, Maia. You've been a great help." 

The bartender gave him a warm smile. "Anytime. Have to keep my best tipper happy, you know." 

Magnus had always had a fondness for many of the young Downworlders in his domain, and Maia was definitely one of them. He returned her smile with the same sentiment, despite his current confusing situation, and left the Hunter's Moon after saying a quick goodbye. 

It was back to the subway with him, and to Queens, no less. He grumbled a bit internally at the prospect. Still, there was no other way around it, not if he wanted to piece together what happened last night and find out where Alec had gone. And he supposed there could've been worse things to do than have a chat with Destiny. 

(***) 

The Paradise Found Club was located in a non-descript building on the east side of Queens. Magnus had known the previous owner of the establishment – an enterprising young Italian man with a flair for the dramatic – when it'd first opened back in the late 1980s. Back then, there had been no mistaking what went on inside; the neon signs, the flashing lights, the extravagance and excess of a time when shoulder pads and big hair had reigned supreme – a man would be hard-pressed not to notice when he walked by. But things had changed in the past decade or so. When the whole bright facade had begun to border on kitschy and garish, and the whole enterprise had looked like a sad relic of a more indulgent decade, Destiny had taken over. Now, under her management, the exterior blended seamlessly into its surroundings with its muted tones, and leather and chrome accents. 

"Magnus! I didn’t expect to see you again so soon," a loud, sing-song voice chimed the moment he entered the club. A tall, buxom woman smiled brightly at him as she walked out from behind the bar. 

Magnus had met Destiny over twenty years ago when she was simply Susan Holden, a struggling actress from Kansas hoping to make it big on Broadway. She'd been one of the best dancers at the club back then, pulling in the heavy tippers as she waited for her big break. But somewhere along the way, she'd found herself, became more comfortable in her skin and embraced who she truly was. She had flourished here. And that had been a sight to behold: a strong, confident, powerful woman who knew unashamedly what she wanted and possessed the steel will to get it. 

"Sorry for bothering you this early, Destiny, but the door was open and I thought I'd let myself in. I need to speak with you." He took in her sleek, shoulder length brown hair, and well-fitted navy pantsuit. The look was quite uncharacteristic for her. He gave her an inquiring look. "This," he gestured at her appearance, "is different." 

Destiny paused and posed briefly for him to admire her ensemble. "I know, odd, isn't it? I have an appointment with the bank later today. I wanted to look like someone they could loan their money to." She strode over and looped an arm around his before guiding him to the bar. The club technically wasn't open yet, so they had their choice of seats. "So, what can I do for you, Magnus? A drink perhaps? Oh, and how is that delightful boyfriend of yours?" 

As with Maia, Magnus felt a bit sheepish at the question. Still, he shook his head, and smiled his charming smile – one that had left countless fluttering hearts in its wake. "No to the drink, but thank you. And as for Alec, that was what I was hoping you could help me with, my dear. You see, last night was a bit of a – blur." He hesitated a bit with the last word, his pride secretly stung at not remembering the details. "I was wondering if you might be able to enlighten me: what exactly happened last night? We obviously came by, but I don't recall much else." 

Destiny gave him a quizzical look, one that was loaded with doubt. "You and Alec looked like you had such a great time last night. You honestly don't remember?" 

Magnus kept his expression neutral, and shook his head. 

"I got a text from you last night, asking if I was free," Destiny said after a few seconds of quiet assessment. "Seeing that it was a Tuesday night and slow as molasses in here, I invited you to have your wicked way with the place. And just like that, within minutes, you showed up asking for dance lessons for that sinfully handsome man of yours." 

If Magnus didn't know any better, he would've thought something was wrong with his hearing. His mouth hung open for a moment, his brain trying to process what Destiny had said. "Wait, what? Alec … dance lessons … willingly? Huh?" 

Okay, so that wasn't very articulate, but he could be forgiven the incoherency, especially given the subject matter. As much as he regretted not remembering the lap dance at the Hunter's Moon, he was ten times more disappointed at not recalling Alec learning how to move from an exotic dancer. 

_"You like that, don't you?"_

_Warm breath caressed his skin and caused the fine hairs to stand on end. Kisses, quick and soft, trailed down along his neck, and caused Magnus arched his back off the velvet-upholstered armchair. Strong, muscled legs pushed against his inner thighs, spreading them as that deceptively graceful body moved against his. Music, there was music somewhere in the background, a dull thump of heavy bass that tapped the inside of his chest. But that was inconsequential, almost imperceptible, when he existed in a hazy fog of need and desire. He reached up and pulled his prize closer, fed up with the teasing._

_And those eyes - hooded, captivating eyes – lined in black …_

_"Alec –" he breathed out._

Magnus gave himself a mental shake, suddenly feel rather flushed. These flashes of memory were a bit disconcerting, if not downright shocking. 

"Yes," Destiny answered conversationally, either missing or choosing to ignore Magnus' lapse. "And your man had an aptitude for it. He picked my moves up in record time. I wanted to say that it was because of my skill as a teacher, but really, Alec was just a fast learner." 

"So you said we just used one of your private rooms? How long did we stay?" Magnus tried to set his mind back to the task at hand, which wasn't easy considering the vague memory he'd just had of Alec dancing against him in tight clothing and cleverly applied cosmetics. What in high hell had they ingested last night? 

Destiny looked down for a moment, as if replaying the events of the previous evening. "I think only about an hour or so. I spent about half an hour with you two, and then left you take care of an obnoxious client out by the stage. When I came back, Alec said he wanted to show off his new skill in some place more public." A corner of her mouth tilted up at an amused and knowing angle. "I had pegged him for more the silent, private type, but whatever he was on, it seemed his inhibitions were long gone. And far be it for me to deny a man his indulgences." 

"Wait, Alec wanted some place more public? You're sure this was my Alec? As in the tall, dark, and make-you-weak-in-the-knees handsome Alec?" Somehow, the concept of his boyfriend and crowds would not properly process in his brain. Still, there was one establishment that came immediately to mind when _dancing_ and _public_ were mentioned. 

"Yes, it was your Alec," Destiny threw back flatly, rolling her eyes at the doubt. "And that's what he said." 

Magnus nodded slowly, unable to reconcile the stated facts, but accepting them nonetheless. Then, a sudden connection clicked in his head. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out the red, lacy underwear he'd discovered earlier. He'd hung on to it as a contingency plan to track down its owner had Alec's trail gone cold, but that seemed unnecessary now. "Yours, I believe?" he noted as he held the delicate item out on his index finger. 

Destiny smiled saucily and took her thong with a wink. "Thanks. The lesson got a bit intense last night." 

"I bet." He returned her wink reflexively and leaned in to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "And than _you_ , but sadly, I do need to get going. You've been a great help though, my dear." 

She gave him a concerned look when he pulled away. "You sure everything's okay, Magnus?" 

"Yes, of course." He smiled reassuringly – or tried to, and started moving toward the exit. "I just seem to have … misplaced my boyfriend." 

"Misplaced? Magnus, how do you misplace y—" 

He didn't hear the rest of her question. By then, he'd already waved goodbye and left the club. 

(***) 

Pandemonium, during the night, was a lively hive of activity, music blaring, bodies moving, and carnal urges thriving. During the day, however, it was much less glamorous. So much so that, in the revealing light, Magnus would hazard to call the place rather drab. It was amazing how just the presence of a mass of people indulging in their vices could add such life to a place. 

When Magnus walked in, several mops were still magically moving themselves across the floor, and Jerrin – a bartender warlock he'd met in Chicago back during Prohibition – was cleaning glasses behind the bar. 

"Hey, Magnus, what brings you in so early?" the heavyset man asked as he neared, traces of his old Chicagoan accent still lilting his words. A glass clinked lightly atop the bar surface as Jerrin moved to pour one of the top shelf bottles. 

Magnus waved a dismissive hand, and absently wondered why people kept offering him a drink wherever he went today. It wasn't even noon yet. Surely, he didn't come off as an alcoholic … did he? 

"Thank you, Jerrin, but I was wondering if you might help me out with something else instead." Despite the lingering aftereffects of his magical hangover, Magnus walked up to the bar with his usual charming flourish. He did have a certain reputation to maintain, after all. 

"Sure thing, boss," the bartender said as he placed the single malt scotch back on the shelf. The bony plates along his back rustled at the motion. "What did you need?" 

"Information. Were you on shift last night?" 

"I was, but just the early one. Maury closed last night." Jerrin casually resumed his glass cleaning. "Saw you come in last night though. Was about to head off when your Shadowhunter started dancing with the crowd. Never saw anything like it before, so I stuck around to watch." 

Jerrin had used to run around with Dillinger's gang back in the 1920s, so for the warlock to actually be surprised was saying something. Not for the first time, Magnus was disappointed that he couldn't remember a single bit of it. 

"So you did see us – er, Alec, dancing," Magnus pressed on. "What happened afterwards?" 

The bartender shrugged, placed the current glass down, and moved on to wipe the next one. "Not much. He danced. You danced. I raised an eyebrow, and then I left." 

_"You know I love you, right, Magnus?"_

_Somehow, Magnus heard the words despite the pounding music, flashing lights, and sweating bodies. Alec rubbed up against him, hips moving in a way that silently lured him in closer. Not that Magnus minded. No, he could do this all day, every day: arms loosely draped around Alec's neck, body pressed close as they breathed each other in._

_"Yes, and I do too, Alexander," he replied lazily, eyelids heavy from a heady sensation that seemed to cloud all rational thought._

_"I want it to last forever."_

Magnus looked down at the recently cleaned floor, trying to reconcile the odd fragments of memory with what was being said. This sounded like a dead end, and already, his brain was trying to formulate his next move. 

"Maury did text that there was a brawl later on though. Had to sweep up some broken glass this morning that he missed." 

At this, Magnus looked back up at the other warlock. "Did Maury say what happened?" 

Jerrin stopped his wiping, and pulled his phone out from his pocket. "Brawl between drunk Shadowhunter and vampires. Cleaned what I could," the warlock read. 

"Vampires?" 

The other warlock nodded. "That's what Maury said. Not the first time we've had problems with them, but I think it's a first for a fight caused by a drunken Shadowhunter. And trust me, from what I saw, the both of you were light years beyond sober." 

It wasn't much, but it was enough. Magnus pushed away from the bar, intent on following the trail. The longer this went on, the more he wanted to find Alec. It wasn't that he thought the younger man couldn't handle himself or was in any danger, but if Alec had taken the same drug he had, then the aftereffects would be several times worse than his, given his lack of warlock blood. Even now, the magical hangover he'd woken up with in jail had subsided to a dull throb – just a tiny annoyance, really. Alec, on the other hand … he would be surprised if the Shadowhunter was even awake at this hour. 

"Thank you, Jerrin. You've been a great help," he threw over his shoulder as he started to move away. 

The other warlock simply nodded his head in acknowledgement, and gave him a quick wave good-bye before continuing on with his daily duties. 

(***) 

Getting from Pandemonium to the Hotel Du Mort was easy. Getting a resident vampire to open the door in the middle of the day, however, was a different story altogether. Magnus knocked on the ornate entryway again, having abandoned the garish relic of a knocker. As he waited, he tried to summon a portal inside, and although he had more success than that morning, his magic was still unstable. In half an hour or so, he estimated, his powers should be back to normal. Not wanting to risk ending up in Siberia instead of the other side of the door, he closed the portal down and banged on the door again. 

After what felt like the twentieth attempt, he heard a muffled scratching, and watched impatiently as the main entrance slowly eased opened to reveal an empty entryway. He huffed out a sigh of exasperation. He was not in the mood for dramatic build-up right now. 

"Raphael," he called out as he made his way into the shadowed lobby. "I need to talk to you." 

"I'm right here, Magnus. No need to shout. You're loud enough to wake the dead." The man in question walked up to him from behind, moving in that stealthy grace that all vampires seem to gain when they become one of the undead – Simon notwithstanding, of course. As usual, Raphael's expression was somber, although the slight twinkle in his eye indicated that he found his own comment amusing. 

As much as Magnus would've loved some social banter with the other downworlder, he didn't have time. Alec took priority… every time. "Sorry, Raphael, tough day. And night, for that matter." 

The vampire gave him an odd look, and strode around him. Not for the first time, Magnus felt a bit of pride at the suave figure the other man cut with his well-fitted suit, and savvy choice of color combination. He liked to think he'd had a hand in mentoring that fashion sense though the decades. 

"I bet," Raphael said. "Did Luke get you out of jail? I thought about helping out when the cops arrived, but decided it'd be more amusing if you slept it off behind bars." 

Magnus froze and narrowed his eyes. His pulse quickened at having found a very large piece of the puzzle. "Wait, what? You know what happened last night?" 

"And you don't?" 

"Unfortunately not," Magnus admitted freely. He'd known Raphael for a long time, considered him family, and he felt somewhat more comfortable revealing the truth. "I was spelled, so everything is a bit hazy." 

The vampire watched him closely, his dark gaze intense and penetrating. Any lesser person would've been intimidated by it and run for his life, but Magnus knew the other man, knew he was simply assessing his well-being and showing concern in his own way. 

"I'm fine now," Magnus assured. "But I'd love to find out what happened last night. And don't spare the details." 

Raphael gave him a small shrug. "I don't know all the sordid details of your night – and I don't particularly want to – but I do know that around two in the morning, your boy toy came knocking on our door with two of beaten-up vampires, making demands like all Shadowhunters do." 

"Demands? What kind of demands?" 

" Something about immortality or some nonsense like that." 

At this, Magnus stiffened and a seed of apprehension began to bloom in the pit of his stomach. "Immor– wait, you didn't…" 

Raphael snorted in disbelief. "What do you take me for? An idiot? Alec was drunk out of his mind. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he was talking gibberish. We heard you outside chasing after him a few minutes later, but you must've caused quite a commotion on the way over, because there was a police car waiting for you half a block down." A small, lopsided smile pulled at the vampire's lips, which only emphasized how funny the man must've found the situation. "I thought about interfering, but it seemed more entertaining to let the mundanes take you." 

"Thanks," Magnus deadpanned. Well, that explained how he'd ended up in jail, but there was still … "Alec. Is he here?" 

Raphael's nod sent a wave of relief though Magnus. "We dumped him in one of the rooms to sleep it off. Don't think he's stirred since. I suppose you want your Shadowhunter back?" 

"Please." 

With a subtle wave from Raphael, a couple of vampires came out from the shadows. Magnus had long given up wondering why they even lurked there in the first place; it wasn't as if he was some teenage angst-filled girl who was impressed by shiny vampire tricks or anything. With a relieved sigh, he followed the two minions as they led the way to Alec. 

(***) 

His magic was back, which was a good thing because his portal opened right beside his new sofa and he didn't think he could've dragged a sleeping Alec more than a couple of steps. Normally, he loved the well-formed specimen that was Alec – loved in many, many creative ways, if he was being frank – but right now, the Shadowhunter's body was just deadweight. With a heave, he dumped his boyfriend unceremoniously onto the couch. 

Alec stirred, and Magnus looked down at his lover with a mix of exasperation and fondness. Absently, he wondered if he'd been the one to dress the man last night because he didn't think Alec would voluntarily put on a tailored, half-buttoned shirt, and well-fitted pants. He wouldn't even start on the smudged eyeliner. 

"It's like you were born to model Alexander McQueen," Magnus muttered with a slight shake of his head. The two of them would've cut a striking couple out in public last night. It was unfortunate he couldn't recall much of it. 

"Who's Alexander McQueen?" came a groggy voice from the seemingly unconscious Shadowhunter. "And don't say that's a new nickname for me." 

Magnus couldn't help but smile at the disoriented cluelessness of his waking boyfriend. "No, just a designer, darling." 

Alec blinked himself awake, wincing a couple of times when he noticed the brightness of the loft. "Wha-What happened? Why do I feel like I went ten rounds with a demon, and I was on the losing end of it?" He sat up slowly, and then froze. "And what am I wearing?" 

"I've already answered your wardrobe question, and as to what happened, I was hoping you might know." Magnus plopped down on the couch, sliding up beside his boyfriend so he could relieve some of the younger man's headache with a bit of his magic. 

Alec sighed with relief at the gesture as his whole body visibly relaxed. "Thanks." 

"You're lucky you're good looking, or I'd charge you a pretty penny for this service," Magnus quipped. When he finished with his magic, he gently rubbed the back of the other man's neck. "We were drugged last night, Alexander, magically drugged. I don't know how or when, but I woke up in a jail cell this morning with no memory of how I got there." 

Alec pulled away slightly at the comment, and gave him a look that was part surprise and part anger. The pride of the skilled Shadowhunter in him was likely offended at being caught unawares. "Drugged? But I don't remember eating or drinking anything that would be … drugged." 

"I don't either, but then again, I don't remember much of anything." Magnus leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. "Last thing I remember was having dinner together last night. But we cooked it ourselves, and I bought all the ingredients, so there's no possible way that was the cause." 

The weight beside him shifted as Alec sat back as well. Magnus unconsciously inched closer to the familiar warmth of his lover. They sat like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying the comfortable silence and soaking in the other's presence. Their adventures – both big and small – aside, these were the moments – these quiet, precious moments – that Magnus cherished most of all. 

Then, Alec stood abruptly with a sound of exclamation. Jostled, Magnus opened one eye. "What?" 

"The wine." Not waiting for a response, Alec left his field of vision and returned shortly with an empty wine bottle in hand. 

That was right. Alec had bought the wine last night. Magnus took the bottle – a Chateau Margaux, one of his favorite Bordeaux reds – and sent a small pulse of magic through it. The residual kickback told him all he needed to know. "Alexander, where did you get this?" 

"At a store in the East Village. I was walking by, and saw the label in the window. I remembered you liked it, so thought I'd pick it up," the younger man said slowly, as if mentally tracing through the sequence of events. "But there were lots of other customers, and there was no way anyone could've predicted that I'd choose that exact bottle at that exact store. Unless …" 

Magnus waited patiently for his boyfriend to continue, but when Alec broke eye contact, he became concerned. "Unless what?" he prompted. 

Alec shifted his weight from foot to foot, and if Magnus didn't know any better, he would've thought the other man was embarrassed. "There was a bookstore next door," Alec finally said. "And since I was there, I thought I'd check something out." 

"A bookstore? How is that related to this?" Magnus held up the empty bottle for emphasis. 

"Remember how you mentioned you knew Casanova?" 

"Yes," Magnus replied cautiously. 

"Well, I wanted to know more about him. I mean, it's Casanova! I'm not even in the same league as the guy, and I thought that if I read up on him, I could, you know, maybe be better at some of this romantic stuff. So I went in to look for a book about him, maybe a biography or something." 

Magnus was touched by the gesture, so much so that he almost didn't want to ruin it with what he was going to say next. "Uh, about that, Alexander … I know I mentioned I'd spent time with Casanova at the Doge's palace, but well … it wasn't all that romantic. You see, we were actually there as prisoners. We were cellmates, but that's a story for another time." 

Alec's eyes widened slightly at the revelation. "Oh," he said simply. And then, "I'm beginning to think you like to name drop for the fun of it." 

"Perhaps." Magnus shrugged, though he did have the decency to smile guiltily. "But that still doesn't explain the wine," he noted, hoping to steer the conversation back to their original topic and away from his sordid past. 

Alec watched him suspiciously, and Magnus knew that the subject was dropped for now, but they would revisit it later. "The storekeeper was pretty helpful when I asked about books on Casanova. He knew his stuff. He sounded like he'd read everything there was on the man. But then, he saw the wine in my hand, and asked if he could see it. I handed it over and I just mentioned how it was one of your favorites. He complimented your tastes, by the way. I didn't think anything of it at the time. He seemed mundane enough, making small talk. I didn't see any warlock marks." 

"This bookstore owner, what exactly did he look like?" 

"About an inch or two shorter than you, dark hair, dark eyes, Mediterranean complexion." Alec paused, a crease forming on his forehead as he tried to recall other details. "Nice smile, and I guess he was a good talker. Charming, you could say, although I got the vibe he was a bit too smooth for my tastes." 

Oh, his awkward Alexander… despite a few rough edges, he'd come far in his social graces in the time that Magnus had known him. With a resigned sigh, Magnus put the empty wine bottle down on the coffee table. He had a fairly good idea who he was dealing with now. "And the name of the bookstore?" 

"Waldstein Books." 

Magnus smirked. That confirmed it. "I'll be right back," he said as he summoned his magic again. The portal formed within seconds. 

"Wait, Magnus, I'll go with – " 

A quick wave of his hand cut the Shadowhunter off. "No, that's fine, Alexander. This is warlock business. Besides, you should probably go wash that make-up off your face." 

A look akin to horror took over Alec's expression. "Make … up…?" 

Magnus laughed as he walked through the portal, watching Alec hurry off toward the bathroom. 

(***) 

"So, did you come to thank me?" The man didn't even turn around when Magnus entered the shop. 

"Hardly, Gio," he replied as he critically took in the bright, argyle-patterned sports coat and tight, red pants of the slim figure. "Still have that garish sense of fashion, I see. I don't get how women seem to fall for it every century." 

"I believe there's a comment about a pot, a kettle, and the color black in there somewhere." The man finally looked up from the books he'd been shuffling through, and turned around, big smile flashing white teeth on an effeminate featured face that Magnus supposed some might find attractive. "Hello, old friend. It's good to see you again. Did you enjoy my gift?" 

"I would not consider that a gift. It caused more trouble than it was worth." Magnus rolled his eyes. 

"But I had a debt to repay. Helping a man escape prison is no small feat. So what better way to make it up to you than to give you a night on the town with your new amour?" The exaggerated look of innocence on the man's face was as real as the reality shows Magnus develop a habit of watching. 

Master of veiled intentions… no, Gio hadn't changed a bit in the last three centuries. "Well, consider your debt repaid," Magnus stated matter-of-factly. "The only reason I'm letting this go is because of our existing relationship, but don't push it. And I would appreciate it if you didn't manipulate Alec anymore. In case you didn't know, I am the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and you'll have me to contend with if I catch you doing something like this again." 

Gio tipped his head at a rakish angle in the way of agreement. "I know exactly who you are, Magnus. That's why I did it. I just didn't realize you'd become such a prude." 

"Not so much a prude, Gio, just … older." And with that, Magnus turned around and started to leave. 

"Your new lover, he's a handsome man, old friend. You're one lucky bastard." 

Magnus paused, a slow smile forming on his lips. "Yes, I am," he threw back before continuing on his way. Indeed, he was, Magnus thought as he opened the portal back to his loft. He was definitely the lucky one to have found someone as good – and as handsome – as Alexander. And it was high praise too, especially coming from one Giacomo Girolamo Casanova. 

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it would be fun to include some notes on the historical references made in this story. After all, Magnus seems to have fun with dropping historical names, so why not join in?
> 
>  
> 
> **Historical Notes:**
> 
>  
> 
> **Percy Bysshe Shelley and George Gordon Byron (Lord Byron)**  
>  – These two men were a couple of leading figures during the Romantic era of  
> poetry. Shelley (along with his wife, Mary Shelley of Frankenstein fame,  
> and his sister-in-law) made Italy their home from 1818 to his death in  
> 1822\. Byron, known as quite flamboyant for the Romantic set, often  
> travelled throughout Europe during this time, particularly Italy where he  
> visited Shelley regularly. It's easy to imagine Magnus taking up with their  
> likes and getting into trouble with them.
> 
>  
> 
> **John Herbert Dillinger**  
>  – Dillinger was a renowned gangster who operated throughout the American  
> mid-west during the 1920s and 1930s. His infamy was what indirectly led to  
> the creation of a more sophisticated Federal Bureau of Investigation by J.  
> Edgar Hoover, and the shootout that resulted in his death at the Biograph  
> Theater is the stuff of urban folklore. Magnus has lived a long life, but  
> he's only one man, and can only be part of so much history. So I thought it  
> would be fun for him to interact with other warlocks (like the totally  
> made-up Jerrin) who might've seen other colorful historical figures.
> 
>  
> 
> **Giacomo Girolamo Casanova**  
>  – There's so much out there detailing Casanova's life that I'll just  
> highlight the parts that are relevant to our little story here. I would  
> hazard to say that Casanova was a bit of a Renaissance Man in that he  
> dabbled in a bit of everything from law, to medicine, to music, to  
> gambling. In 1755, he was imprisoned in the Doge's palace (for an 'affront  
> to religion and common decency', of all things). History has him making a  
> daring escape from the palace with a renegade priest, but I thought it'd be  
> fun to swap that out for Magnus. Imagine the high jinks the two of them  
> would've gotten into together! In 1785, near the end of Casanova's life, he  
> worked as a librarian for Count Waldstein of Bavaria. It must've been a  
> boring life for an adventurer like Casanova, but it was because of this  
> that Magnus recognized the bookstore's name in our story.


End file.
